Youth || Joshler

3: Mr. Dun Likes English

"Exactly." The room went silent for a long time again until Tyler brought his attention to the red book.

"What's it about?" Mr. Dun looked at Tyler when he asked, confused. Tyler hastily explained himself, "The book, I mean."

"Oh. It's about an African American woman going through poverty, and a rich Englishman hiring her to kill his son for money.. she ends up falling for the son when she's not supposed to, and it was illegal for an African woman to be with an English man in that time period.. it's all very cliché."

"Bad cliché, or good cliché?"

Mr. Dun laughed, a hearty laugh. "It's not bad. It's interesting." He was smiling fondly off at something elsewhere and then sighed. "If I could, I'd teach English, but I was hired to teach math."

Tyler smiled and looked at the ground, long eyelashes nearly reaching his cheek bones. "I wish I had English this semester."

"You like reading?"

"I don't read often, but yeah. I.. I like writing a lot more." Tyler fiddled with his thumbs. He'd never told anybody this, as he was a stereotypical jock, and if he showed an interest in writing or reading or other lame things he'd be the joke of his lunch table.

Mr. Dun nodded. "What do you write?"

"Poetry." Lyrics, he thought, but he didn't need to say that. Being interested in music was worse than just reading and writing.

Some high schools were okay with stereotypes and groups, and played them on the down-low, but not Cincinnati High. Other schools were more friendly, but Tyler's high school had strict cliques and groups that weren't allowed to mix unless absolutely necessary, with projects and school assignments that required partners. Tyler wished it was different, so he wasn't required to sit with the jocks and cheerleaders every day at lunch, but he couldn't do anything about it. He wished he could sit with people he had more things in common with, like music, but..

He cut off his thoughts when Mr. Dun spoke. "Poetry? Huh."

"I-I know, I'm a basketball player-"

"No, it's not that- you just don't look like the type." Before Tyler could respond, he was speaking again. "You know, I actually run a writer's workshop downtown. We meet every Tuesday and Thursday. Maybe you could swing by sometime?"

Tyler paused. Was he inviting him there? It sounded cool, like something the brunette would totally be interested in, but what if somebody he knew from school was there? "I-- thank you, but I don't think it's for me. I play basketball, sir."

"Yes, I'm aware of that." Mr. Dun shrugged and looked at the clock above the door. Tyler followed his gaze and saw that lunch was almost over. "You're allowed to play basketball and be into writing, Tyler. It's not against the law."

"It might as well be." Tyler stood up from the chair and gathered his things.

Mr. Dun put his math sheet somewhere in a pile of papers and took out a blank square of paper, messily scribbling something down that Tyler couldn't make out from the angle he was standing at. The teacher handed Tyler the paper, and upon closer inspection, it was an address; Tyler recognized the street name, it was somewhere downtown.

"We're having a workshop tonight at eight, at this address, if you change your mind."

Tyler pursed his lips and nodded. Of course, he wasn't going- the idea was absurd. He had a game tonight and would he exhausted by eight o'clock, there was no way he could or would go. He didn't want to say this, however, so instead nodded and turned to walk out of the room, shoving the address in his pocket.